


i'll decay and detoxify

by MaliciousVegetarian



Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 [REUPLOAD] [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual abuse over a period of time, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian
Summary: Geralt returns to Kaer Morhen seeming . . . off. When he tries something drastic, the other witchers discover what exactly has happened to him in the past year.
Relationships: Mentioned Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Calanthe Fiona Riannon
Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 [REUPLOAD] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943452
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	i'll decay and detoxify

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 9/28/2020 - This is a reupload of a previously posted fic. I deleted all my witcher fic during a Bad Brain Time, and am slowly replacing things.
> 
> Here's day two of Geralt Whump Week, two days late. An extra big thank you to WingedQuill, for being patient with me while I tried to figure out what was bothering me about this. Title is from Detoxify by Local News Legend.
> 
> This is based on an au originally created in the Transgendering at Kaer Morhen discord server by WingedQuill, stcrmpilot, and five other lovely people whose AO3 names I don't have.
> 
> Warnings: discussions of rape, discussions of sexual abuse over a period of time, suicide attempt.
> 
> Also Calanthe is not portrayed positively here. This isn't meant as character bashing, more like an au version of her.

Vesemir should have noticed.

Or rather, he should have done something with what he noticed, intervened before it got to this point. It had been obvious as soon as Geralt came home that something was different, or more specifically, that he had fallen into old behavior patterns. But there was something new about this, about the way he flinched from touch, or when his brothers teased him over his latest escapades - namely, the affair he had supposedly had with Queen Calanthe of Cintra.

Teasing over relationships is nothing new for his boys - most of last winter had been passed by Geralt and Eskel giving Lambert grief over his new relationship - something about Geralt’s reaction seems different.

When Lambert comes to find him, face pale and breathing hard, as if he had been running, Vesemir has an idea of what’s wrong lurking at the edge of his thoughts

“It’s Geralt,” he says. “He tried to - we think - come on, we need to go.”

Vesemir stands up so fast the chair he’d been sitting in almost falls over. The two of them speed walk towards Geralt’s room, Lambert explaining more somewhat frantically as they go. “He took - something, potions, we’re not sure which. He wasn’t breathing when Eskel found him.”

Vesemir swears under his breath, speeding up a little.

Lambert continues. “I got White Honey, and he was better when I left to get you, but he’s still - it’s not good.”

Kaer Morhen seems impossibly large right now, but they eventually reach the room. Geralt is lying awkwardly on his bed, body tense and trembling. Vesemir can, thankfully, see his chest rising jerkily, but he’s pale and his lips are tinged blue. Years of experience around young witchers takes over.

“How long has he been convulsing like this?” he asks Eskel, crossing the room in as few strides as possible. Eskel had been standing by the bed, looking lost and scared, and there’s relief in his eyes at the sight of them.

“Since I gave him the White Honey.”

Vesemir leans over and places two fingers against Geralt’s throat. His pulse is fast and thready, but fairly regular. His muscles are hard under the skin, straining with the effort of clearing the poison from his overloaded system.

“Do you know what he took?”

Eskel and Lambert exchange a quick look. “No, but there are bottles by the bed,” Lambert says. “We didn’t have the time to look at them.”

The bottles are mostly empty, but there’s enough residue that Vesemir can work out what they contained. It doesn’t paint a comforting picture. No wonder Geralt’s body is having to fight so hard against it.

He moves his hand to Geralt’s cool cheek, and lets himself stay there for a moment, reminding himself that his son is alive still, that he’s fighting. That there’s every chance he will survive this, that they’ve gotten to him in time.

Eskel and Lambert are waiting, fear in their eyes. “It’s not good, but he should pull through,” Vesemir promises them, pulling away from Geralt even though all he wants is to hold him close. “He’ll need doses of White Honey every few hours, and someone will have to stay with him for tonight, maybe tomorrow as well.”

Eskel nods, eyes determined. He opens his mouth, presumably to offer to stay with Geralt, but Lambert verbally scrambles to answer before him. “I’ll stay!”

Vesemir raises a hand slightly. “We’ll all stay. I doubt any of us would sleep tonight.”

Vigils like this are always awful, but this one is different. He had thought he had put these behind him, that they all had, that Geralt was doing better. He doesn’t know what happened.

Not that something has to have happened, but this is Geralt, and Vesemir knows him. He remembers the times before - after his first year of witchering, after Blaviken - and he thinks back over Geralt’s behavior for the past month. He knows he’s right. Something had happened.

He doesn’t sleep that night, sitting and watching Geralt’s still form intently. Lambert and Eskel both drift off, although not at the same time. Lambert curls up at the end of the small bed and Eskel lays next to Geralt, one hand splayed on his chest like a starfish.

Every few hours, Vesemir pours more White Honey into Geralt’s mouth. Slowly, his body relaxes, his breathing eases, and his lips begin to return to their normal shade. By the time morning light begins to creep in through the small window, he seems peaceful.

“Think he’s out of the woods now?” It’s Eskel, whispering. He hasn’t moved his hand.

“He is,” Vesemir says gently, watching as the hand rises and falls. “It’ll take a few weeks for him to fully recover, but after that he should be fine.”

Eskel nods, golden eyes serious. “He scared me,” he says, then pauses as if he hadn’t expected to say it.

Vesemir nods.

“I knew,” Eskel says, looking down at his brother, “I knew about the other times, but it’s - it’s different, being that close to it.”

Vesemir thinks back through the years he’d spent training young witchers, of the boys he’d gotten to in time and the ones he hadn’t. “It is.”

Eskel sighs, and the quiet sound seems to reverberate throughout the whole room. “I knew something was wrong,” he says. “I didn’t know it was this bad, but I knew he wasn’t right. And I didn’t say anything.”

“I saw as well,” Vesemir admits.

“Something must have happened,” Eskel says. “Something during the year. He was off all this winter.”

“I know,” Vesemir says, and tries to think back over what he knows of Geralt’s past year. It’s very little. The normally taciturn witcher had been all but silent on the subject of his latest exploits, and Vesemir couldn’t remember hearing any new songs about the White Wolf on the rare occasions he ventured into town. “Calanthe,” he says. “Something must have happened in Cintra.”

Eskel nods, face stoney. “That’s all I can think of as well.” He glances at Geralt’s prone form. “Should we be talking about this right in front of him?”

“He won’t wake for hours yet.”

“Still.”

They fall silent.

“When he’s awake,” Eskel says finally, “we need to talk to him.”

“Aye,” Vesemir agrees. “I’ll do it.”

Eskel nods consent. They leave it there.  
-

Lambert seems uncertain about leaving Geralt after he’s woken up, but Eskel grabs his arm and shepherds him out of the room. Vesemir tries to push away the dread he feels at the thought of talking to Geralt. This needs to be done.

Geralt knows what’s coming, clearly. As Vesemir turns to him, he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I fucked up, alright? I know that, and I’m sorry.”

Vesemir sighs. “I’m not angry at you, Geralt. I just have one question - what happened?”

Something close to panic flickers across Geralt’s face. “What makes you think something happened?”

“I know you, Geralt. In the past there’s always been - an inciting incident, shall we say.”

Geralt still isn’t meeting his eyes, keeping his head turned away. “There wasn’t - I just - this year was -”

“I just want to know why,” Vesemir murmurs, and at that something in Geralt seems to deflate. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then another, and then -

“I couldn’t get her to stop.”

And oh, those words do something to him, hurt him in some fragile place that has been hit over and over again but is still able to be cut like it’s the first time.

Geralt continues, sounding like he’ll fall apart if he stops talking. “I couldn’t - I couldn’t get out, she wouldn’t let me go. I tried - I tried to stop her, please, you have to believe me, I did, but I was so - I was so hungry.” There’s a catch to his breathing, one Vesemir knows all too well. He sits down next to him and holds an arm out. Geralt falls against him.

This, holding his son against him to try to protect him from his own mind, is familiar. The curve of his body seems the same as it was when he was seven and nineteen and a witcher grown.

They sit like that for a long time, but then Vesemir knows he has to resume questioning. He needs to know what exactly happened, in case it’s something that will come for Geralt. He waits until the boy’s calmed down, his breathing beginning to ease.

“Geralt, who was it?”

This time, the deep breath Geralt takes is fairly even, but his voice is quiet when he begins. “It was Calanthe.”

Vesemir sucks in a breath. He had suspected as soon as Geralt said it. Rumors of the White Wolf’s affair with the Queen of Cintra had even reached Kaer Morhen. Eskel and Lambert had been teasing him about it all winter. They had - fuck. That couldn’t have helped.

Geralt keeps going, pausing between statements. “I wanted to start - doing my duty, I guess, for my Child of Surprise. At first, that was what she used. She’d make promises about me seeing Ciri. I didn’t realize - I didn’t realize anything was happening until I tried to leave and guards stopped me. After that she started keeping a closer eye on me. She confined me to her rooms. And she stopped bringing me food.”

He hangs his head. Vesemir isn’t sure if it’s in shame or in desire not to make eye contact.

“She started - she started wanting to touch me. And - I was so hungry. I didn’t know what else I could do, and every time she wanted something she got her way, and there wasn’t - I didn’t think there was any way I could keep her away.”

Vesemir rests his cheek against Geralt’s smooth hair. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs. “It wasn’t, I promise. We’re all here for you -”

“They weren’t.” Geralt almost snarls, startling Vesemir. “And you didn’t stop them.” Then the anger seems to flood out of him. “I didn’t - I know you didn’t know.”

“No, you’re right,” Vesemir says, holding Geralt tighter. “You were in pain, and I didn’t see it. When I did, I ignored it. I’m so, so sorry.”

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m here,” he says, half to himself. “I’m here, but I keep feeling like I’m there, and I don’t - I couldn’t feel like that anymore, I couldn’t take it.”

Vesemir presses his face into Geralt’s hair. “You’re here, and you’re safe. We’ve got you now, pup, you won’t have to do this alone anymore.”

Geralt nods, face screwed up tight. The two of them stay like that for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm leavemecryingdandelion on tumblr, come say hi!!


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